Solidarity
by IolantaStar1
Summary: I've always thought that Rhys and Ianto have the potential of being really good friends. This is a bit of an experiment to test that theory.


Solidarity

"'Just wait a few hours before I come back.' Like bloody hell I will," Rhys muttered under his breath, smashing the door of his and Gwen's flat shut. He was almost used to getting stood up, but tonight was supposed to be special. Tonight they were supposed to celebrate the first anniversary of their marriage although, considering everything that happened at the actual wedding, what had he really expected?

Aimlessly wandering the empty streets of night Cardiff, Rhys contemplated his life with Gwen. She was a wonderful woman, and he really did love her dearly. The moment she said yes to his tentative offer of a date back when they were at uni, he thought that he must have been a saint in the previous lifetime, because he certainly did not deserve her in this one. Gwen was caring, passionate, beautiful, and absolutely extraordinary. Rhys glanced at his reflection in a shop window—not great-looking, but not ugly either. Rather average, all in all.

Having been married for a year to Torchwood officer Gwen Cooper, Rhys had to wonder if maybe his initial assessment of himself was slightly erroneous. Maybe he was meant to be a saint in this life, after all—or a martyr, in any case. He knew—or at least had a vague idea of—what his wife had to face on daily basis, so he tried to be supportive, tried never to lose his temper, but sometimes it simply proved to be too much. Like today. Rhys left from work early, bought a huge bouquet of red roses, drove to the other side of the city to get the chocolate cake Gwen liked the best, but he himself secretly hated, and came home to cook salmon, using a recipe he'd stayed up half the night trying to find on the Internet. But no… apparently, something came up, and she was too busy to be there on time for her own anniversary dinner. Maybe Gwen was right, and they shouldn't have children. God only knows what kind of abandonment issues the kids would grow up to have.

Rhys stopped in front of a door of a random bar and, after a moment of hesitation, went in. A bit of alcohol might work wonders, even if he didn't want to get really pissed just in case Gwen found a way to make it home for dinner after all. "What can I get you, mate?" the bartender asked him.

"Something strong—whatever you've got."

The bartender raised his eyebrows a little and, for a moment, it looked like he would try to stick his nose in Rhys's business, but then a barely-clothed blond girl walked up to the bar, and Rhys found himself staring at a glass of whiskey faster than he could blink as his would-be interrogator moved on to the infinitely more interesting subject of, "Oh luv, and what is a pretty girl like you doing here all by her lonesome?"

Rhys shook his head. He was pretty sure that, if anyone approached Gwen with a question like this, they would end up awfully sorry awfully quick.

Taking a sip of his drink, Rhys turned his back to the flirting going on at the bar and scanned the other patrons absentmindedly. His gaze stopped on a neatly dressed young man sitting alone at one of the corner tables. Hesitating a little, Rhys got up and made his way to the owner of the face he thought he recognized.

"Sorry, mate, but aren't you that bloke from Torchwood?"

The young man looked up from his own drink, and a polite little smile appeared on his face, "So I am, although I suggest you don't mention it quite so loudly, Mr. Williams."

"Sorry," Rhys replied contritely. Any trouble he made for Torchwood would only hurt Gwen in the long run. Rhys stood in front of his wife's colleague's table for a few awkward moments, uncertain of what to say. He doubted that "thanks to your bloody Torchwood, Gwen is missing her anniversary dinner" would be terribly polite, and the bloke sitting before him seemed to exude politeness. To top it all off, Rhys couldn't for the life of him remember the young man's name.

Thankfully, the bloke tried to diffuse the awkwardness, "Would you care to sit down, Mr. Williams? I suppose I would like some company." Then, noticing the remnants of Rhys's hesitation, he added, "Jones. Ianto Jones. That's my name, that is. I wouldn't expect you to remember, under the circumstances."

Rhys grinned with relief and pulled up a chair, sitting opposite Ianto. "Under the circumstances—right. That _was_ pretty wild, yeah?" Ianto just shrugged, and Rhys wondered how much this boy must have already seen to be so dismissive of the things that Rhys thought would haunt his own nightmares for the rest of his life. Better change the subject fast. "Well—what in the bloody hell is going on at—your office—that couldn't possibly wait until tomorrow for Gwen to sort out?" Rhys accidentally fell back to his original question.

"Apparently," Ianto replied, rolling his eyes, "there have been reports of children from a certain neighborhood disappearing at night and reappearing the next morning with no memories of where they'd been for the past few hours. Now, normally, some kids rebelling against overprotective parents would not be our business, but there is a minor increase in the ambient rift energy in that area of town… To make long story short, Gwen and Jack went there to investigate. After all, as your wife pointed out, children are our future."

The boy sure could do sarcasm well, which was surprising, considering how uptight and serious he looked in that immaculate suit. Rhys's mind latched on to a different part of the explanation, though. "Oh, so she's with Jack bloody Harkness, is she? That certainly makes me feel much better."

Ianto glanced at him with a mildly amused expression and replied cryptically, "My thought exactly."

Finding such a receptive audience, Rhys continued, "I don't know how you and Gwen do it. Hostile aliens, impossible working hours, and constant danger are bad enough, but then you also have to suffer through Harkness's larger-than-life demeanor and goddamn cockiness. That must make your job a living hell. I'm telling you, mate, I wouldn't last a day working for him."

"You should try sleeping with him," Ianto muttered under his breath.

"You sleep with him?" Rhys stared at the young man incredulously. Had he really heard the proper Ianto say that? But yes, those words did come out of his mouth. Rhys could even vaguely recall seeing Jack and Ianto dance together at his and Gwen's wedding, but the memory was somewhat blurry—Rhys did not need Retcon to block out all but select few memories of that day.

"Why is this so surprising? In case you haven't noticed, he is very handsome," Ianto queried, a bemused sparkle in his eyes.

"Well… that is…," there really was no polite way to answer that question, so Rhys opted for a truthful reply. "You must be such a masochist, mate."

Ianto seemed to take the comment in stride and chuckled softly, "Please forgive me for saying this, but coming from a bloke who was stood up at the first anniversary of his wedding, that word does not sound quite so insulting."

Rhys winced. He knew he deserved it, but that was still pretty harsh.

"So… uh… if they are out there investigating the 'kids-not-napping' thing, what are you doing here?" his previous topic changes were not particularly successful, but Rhys persevered.

"'Kids-not-napping'," Ianto chuckled. "Nice. I'll have to remember that for when they make me fill out the paperwork on this case. Anyway, doesn't sound like something Jack and Gwen couldn't handle alone. Besides, what is more likely: that the kids are abducted by aliens and experimented on every night, or that they are simply indulging in the regular teenager-y activities along the lines of underage drinking and indiscriminant sex?"

"Well, from what Gwen tells me and seeing as we are in Cardiff, you never know," Rhys replied.

"That you don't. Hence the investigation. I'm merely speaking from personal experience, though. Used to sneak out with my mates to go drinking all the time. Drove my poor mam sick with worry," Ianto said with a sigh.

"Really?!!" Rhys exclaimed rather loudly. Ianto raised his eyebrows. "It just doesn't quite fit your image, mate, does it?" Rhys explained somewhat apologetically.

"And what is your image of me, I wonder?"

The other bloke's voice betrayed nothing but curiosity, but Rhys knew enough to tread carefully when asked such a personal question, "Well, you know… You seem very… neat."

"Well, it is my job to keep the Hub as clean as humanly possible, especially considering the fact that neither Jack nor Gwen can be bothered to actually put things in their proper places. Getting one's job done is hardly a personality trait."

Seemed like there was no easy way out. "What I meant to say is… you seem like the type of fellow whose books are arranged on shelves by the Dewey decimal system… and who enjoys watching documentaries… about history… of Wales."

_Great, now I've really put a foot in my mouth_, Rhys thought, as Ianto looked somewhat offended.

"I didn't mean to…," he started, but Ianto shook his head.

"I guess it's better than being considered a drifter, anyway. Although I do have to say that there was more than one occasion when documentaries about Welsh history have proven to be instrumental to my work as Torchwood archivist."

"All I meant to say is that that's just your image, mate. It's probably because of the suit and all…," Rhys blundered on.

"And what's wrong with the suit?" Ianto asked, glancing down at his apparel.

"Nothing, nothing," Rhys assured him, desperately trying to come up with a way to get out of the grave he'd dug for himself. "It's just that it is rather formal, even with a pink shirt."

"Perhaps you're right," Ianto sipped his beer thoughtfully, "although Jack seems to be fond of my suits."

"Well, now that I've made a complete fool out of myself, I guess it's only fair if I give you a chance to insult me in turn. What's your image of me then?" Rhys offered the younger man a proverbial olive branch and looked up at him, a little nervous to hear his true opinion.

"You seem like the type of bloke who would get fish and chips from the local shop on his way back from work, come home to his police constable wife, and spend a nice evening with her watching a rugby match on the telly and shouting for your team to finally score that bloody try."

Rhys stared down at his drink. The boy had him pegged down perfectly. Only Gwen was no longer a police constable, and those worry-less evenings at home in front of the telly were now only a dream—or maybe a distant memory.

"I'm sorry." He looked up at the sound of Ianto's voice. "My life is not exactly normal either. I work for an alien-hunting organization whose existence has to be kept secret from anyone other than Jack, Gwen, and now you and I'm in love with a man who has commitment issues the size of a galaxy. Not a fairy-book story, that."

Ianto gave him a tight little smile, and Rhys almost unconsciously mirrored it. There was a pause as both men quietly sipped their drinks.

"Kind of pathetic, uh?" Rhys said finally. "Sitting here waiting for them, wondering what in the bloody hell those two are doing together…"

"Gwen wouldn't do that to you now," Ianto shook his head, but his tone was a little too assertive, as if he was trying to reassure himself as well. Rhys also did not miss the "now" part of the sentence. He was pretty sure he knew what it meant.

"Would Harkness do that to you then?" he asked instead. Ianto shrugged and looked back down at his drink. "Sorry."

There was nothing else to say, and they once again descended into silence. Finally, Ianto chuckled darkly. "We could always reenact one of those bad comedies and pretend that we're lovers, so the two of them will become madly jealous and realize what idiots they have been for taking us for granted."

"Sorry, mate. I really don't swing that way. Gwen would never buy it," Rhys laughed in reply.

"Still fun to imagine what they would do."

"Seriously, though, why are you with him? I mean, he is hardly the most… steady person in the world. It just seems like you deserve someone better."

"There is no one better," Ianto shook his head, sounding quite serious. "Jack might be a brash, boisterous flirt, but he is also the most selfless human being I've ever met. He would do—sacrifice—anything for humanity. I feel inspired when I'm around him. He saved me, gave me something to live for, and I do love him. No, it's not perfect, but I can't imagine my life without—whatever it is that Jack and I have. Well, I reckon you probably know…"

Rhys felt his throat tighten and nodded slightly. He forced himself to meet Ianto's gaze. It was almost physically painful, like reaping your own chest open and gazing inside yourself. Yet Rhys could not quite look away, because despite everything, there was also some consolation in the sharing of pain. They were both in love with people whom they considered too good for them and to whom, as a result, they consistently forgave way too much.

Rhys's mobile rang out an upbeat melody and he quickly brought it up to his ear.

"Hey, Rhys," Gwen spoke from the other line. "Looks like I'll make it to the dinner after all. It was a false alarm. You're not too mad at me, are you?" He could hear a pout in her voice and had no trouble imagining the guilty-puppy look on her face.

"No, Gwen. I'm just glad that everything is okay."

"Well, I'll make it up to you, I promise. Love you."

"Love you, too," Rhys answered before realizing that she was no longer listening. He turned back to Ianto. "Well, mate, seems like I have to go back home and reheat that anniversary dinner."

"Good for you," Ianto smiled. "I hope you have a very nice evening."

"Yeah. Um, what about you, though? Hate to leave you to drink alone."

"That's alright. Since the case is now settled, Jack will probably pick me up on the way back to the Hub. We'll order a pizza and watch a film—James Bond—the rental place was out of history documentaries."

"You're never going to let me forget that one, are you?" Rhys laughed and was surprised that the laugh sounded neither strained nor self-conscious.

"Not likely," Ianto smiled in reply.

"Well, anyway. Why don't we get together again the next time Gwen and Harkness are chasing their tails? Go to a match, maybe?"

"Sounds good. Just give me a ring. Gwen has my number. Well, go on then. Don't want to keep her waiting, do you?"

"Bye. It was nice talking to you, mate."

"Nice talking to you, too."

After shaking the young man's hand, Rhys quickly made his way to the door. He had to hurry if he wanted to reheat the dinner before Gwen got to their flat. The candles had to be lit, the table had to be set, and the music had to be softly playing in the background. It had to be perfect, so just for a night, he could believe that his life was a fairy-tale that would ultimately have a happy ending. But even so, it was nice to know that there was another person out there who understood exactly how he felt and whom he could go to when the walls of his dream castle will once again start to crack.


End file.
